


I'm Blind to The Ties That Bind

by CookieCatSU



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Basically, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fenton's just like, Gyro is a jerk as usual, Like anything with soulmates this is bound to be cheesy, M/M, Soulmate AU, This Idiot, Why?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: Soulmate AU: A red thread of fate connects your character to his soulmate. The thread cannot be broken, but it can stretch and tangle.Gyro's convinced soulmates are stupid. He also, unironically, can't see his thread.
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gyro Gearloose
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	I'm Blind to The Ties That Bind

He'd never seen the fated red thread. The ring finger it was supposed to be attached to had always been bare for him, no matter what angle he gazed at it from, no matter how long he stared at it.

Everyone talked of it, of soulmates and forever bonds and true love. Of illogical concepts that made no sense, gushy inconsistencies falling from their mouths, as they sit, hugging their 'lover' to their side. Gyro decides the whole concept is hogwash, early on. He's never seen a single red string, connecting one person to another. The only reds he's seen are strawberry and tomatoes and the occasional sunburnt face.

Never a red thread. Certainly not his own.

His mother herself had told him stories, as she held him in her lap, stories of how she met his father. Stories of how she'd followed him to the ends of the earth, followed that string of faith to the ends of the universe. How they clicked the moment they laid eyes on each other. How, one day, Gyro would do the same. Would feel the same, with someone else.

She smiles down at him, and traces the base of his ring finger. As if she sees, and feels, something he doesn't. Something he can't. Something integral and awe inspiring. He stared at the spot, wonder in his eyes.

At the time, he hoped to one day understand. To one day find his own soulmate.

Now, he's simply bitter.

He has two theories: One, soulmates, and red strings, aren't real. They're some new fangled idiocy that never really existed at all, manufactured as a coping mechanism, and everyone but him was just imagining them. Two: They were real. He could not see them because of some odd defect, and therefore was floating about lost in the sea of fate like a sailor without a compass.

He tended toward the first one. It was better suited toward his logical understandings. Fate and luck simply had no basis in science, no basis in reason. Red strings of fate, which stretched miles sometimes, and never snapped or frayed or became discolored, had no basis in reason. The concept was preposterous. 

It's also horrifying to think, that everyone can see it but him. To think he has so little control, to think he might be totally unaware of something that's so important to _everything_.

No one ever shuts up about their soulmate. Their thread. Their bond.

He might not even have one.

So yes, Gyro Gearloose is convinced there are no red strings of fate. He's never seen one, and as a man of science, he only believes in what's visible.

* * *

Mr. McDuck was a good man. Sometimes simply insufferable, but a good man at heart nonetheless.

His thread was sundered, barely an inch long, fraying at the edges, apparently having been cut by some old sweetheart turned sour. Gyro knows, because it was one of the first stories the duck ever told him, only minutes after they'd first met. His eyes had been hard, glinting, but his voice was thick with betrayal, and his fingers kept grazing the spot as he spoke, poking and prodding.

Gyro recognizes the emotion on his face, one he himself has felt several times before: loss, the irrevocable sort.

It's clearly something he told everyone, if his eagerness to disclose the information to, who at the time was a complete stranger, was any indication.

They converse. Mr. McDuck, evidently, takes a liking to him. Gyro's taken aback, since hardly anyone ever did. People seemed to know he had no soulmate, no thread, seemed to know he was impossibly different from them.

Scrooge though, he always seemed to like him.

"You're very sharp, young man" He grins, as if it's some conspiracy, as he gazes at the stop light, picking absently at the thread, "I could use someone like you"

Gyro shuffles, waiting impatiently for the signal to change. His arms are laden with papers, carefully sketched blueprints, his back aches with the weight of them all, bowing inward to support it, and he just wants to go home.

He's certainly in no mood to talk.

It's evil, how the duck clearly cornered him, striking up a conversation when he knew Gyro had no ability to walk away. The walk signal still said stop. This one was particularly slow, too.

He growls under his breath, heaving the papers a little higher in his grip, so the topmost ones nearly topple over his hat. The walk signal was still red. Gyro's patience was beginning to wear thin.

"I don't know what you're suggesting, but I'm **not** interested" 

Just as he snarls that declaration out, one of the blueprints tucked up under his elbow slips, falling to the pavement. He curses, as it rolls away. He tries to snatch it back up, but ends up jostling the whole amalagous pile.

Mr. McDuck, surprisingly spry for an old man, scurries right under him. He easily reaches the blueprint just out of Gyro's grasp.

He opens it with a snap of his wrist, "Oh my. What's this?"

Just a supposed positron generator, no more and no less.

"Hey, give that back. That's mine. That's my property and you have no right to touch it"

It's clear he's already scanned it over, if the wide eyed look he gets is any indication. He takes his sweet time rolling it back up, before holding it out to the young man to take.

"I was just handing it back to ye, lad. No law against that"

Gyro, at this point, is flushed and agitated. He's angry, and his fingertips shake, as he reaches to snatch the blueprint back with a scoff.

The light turned green. Mr. McDuck doesn't pursue him. Gyro takes the opportunity to finally escape.

A week later, he receives a call from Scrooge McDuck's house keeper: Ms. Beakely.

Suddenly, Gyro goes from no job to a proposal to work for the biggest company in town.

After some thinking, he, perhaps inevitably, accepts.

* * *

Gyro worked alone. That was simply an irrefutable fact. Mr. McDuck, his employer of more than a year at this point, knew this. Knew that Gyro did not play well with others.

He struggles to interact, struggles to keep his cool. Every tiny mistake is an innumerable slight, because Gyro is looking for perfection. He's looking for flawlessness, which he finds must be obtained on one's lonesome (no one's interested in trying to reach it, so caught up in the words and their itty bitty little feelings). 

He's evidently too abrasive, and wildly, inappropriately rude, but he's never been able to bring himself to care.

He can hardly talk to another person, without saying something they thought was… inadvisable. Yes, his people skills were lacking; hence the 'cards' he was obliged to carry in his pocket.

Gyro had some theories about that, of course, about his inability to connect with other people. He suspected it had something to do with his _defect_ , the one that made him see _differently_ from everyone else. His inability to identify these perceived, physical _connections_ between people has probably affected his ability to make emotional ones.

All of that to say, that Scrooge knew Gyro did not play well with others. He knew, if he wanted the scientist to get good work done, that he must be left alone.

That, and people are loud, obnoxious. He needs peace, and quiet. 

Mr. McDuck knows this too, of course. He knows if he wants Gyro to work as efficiently as possible, he must leave him be. He knows Gyro works best alone, with no interactions or interruptions.

It's why this whole situation is so frustrating.

When something needs to be built, Scrooge talks to Dr. Gearloose. Otherwise, he leaves him to his own devices, which Gyro is grateful for. Employers in the past had always been too friendly, too chatty, pesky micromanagers always looking over his shoulder, always interrupting his work with needless, fluff filled conversation.

Mr. McDuck never did so. If he interrupted, it was always for good reason.

This seems not to be one of those times.

"Gyro, lad, where are you?" He turns to see Scrooge, standing in the middle of his lab. He, naturally, did not notice him come in, so absorbed in his work. He drops the sautering iron on the table, and turns fully toward his employer.

That's when he notices there's someone else, standing just behind the old man, a little taller than him, with a purple tie and a stupid smile. A coiff of brown feathers fall over his forehead, almost entirely neat beside a few stray strands.

He's waving.

"I'm right here, as always" Gyro scowls at the strange duck. He feels a weird twinge at the sight of him, which leaves him particularly irritable. He feels he's missing something. Something huge. "Who's the idiot and what's he doing in my laboratory?"

Scrooge grins, wrapping both hands around his cane. He gestures toward him with a sweeping gesture.

"Meet your new intern, er… what's your name again, laddy?"

"Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera. Reporting for duty" He exclaims cheerily, throwing his hand out, enthused like some oversized toddler.

He seems to expect Gyro to shake it. He refuses to, glancing over him once with the most dissatisfied, disgusted look he can muster.

He doesn't seem like someone Gyro would ever be able to like. He can see it now: he's going to be too loud, and too friendly and too _distracting_.

That is to say, he's going to disrupt him while he's working, because everyone does, and Gearloose can't have that.

He turns back, rotating on the spot to glare at his boss. Beak pulled down into a jagged frown. This has to be some joke. He can't be serious. 

"No. No. No. No. I'm sorry, Mr. McDuck, but I work alone. I have no need of a lab assistant"

"Ye work how I tell ya" He laughs, in that unreasonable way he always disguised as charming. "Besides, the department could use the help, and yer the best scientist we have. Might as well have ya train the new addition"

"But…" His fists clench, a harried, frustrated protest right at the edge of his beak. Lil' Bulb, seated right atop his shoulder, mirrors the gesture, little metal appendages shaking with over animated rage.

Mr. McDuck interrupts him, before he can get in another word edgewise.

"It's not really up for discussion, Doctor" He narrows his eyes at him. His tone is firm, and leaves no room for argument.

No one could shut down an ensuing Gearloose temper tantrum quite like Scrooge McDuck. Gyro hates him for it, more often than not, the way he cuts through his anger, and makes it seem null, void, silly, incessant dribbling. 

On rare occasions, he's thankful for it, however, when he has the foresight to realize Scrooge's the only thing between him and a catastrophe, catalyzed by his particularly short temper.

Sometimes, Gyro is self aware.

He's aware he has every right to be upset right now, for instance.

He glowers at Scrooge, as a way to show just how disturbed he is. How deep his dissatisfaction runs.

Mr. McDuck hardly blinks.

"This is settled, then? The intern stays, and you'll attempt to be somewhat civil?"

Gyro crosses his arms, looking resolutely away, eyebrows knit together, jaw snapped shut. He hears the intern in the background, jittering nervously, but he ignores him. Mr. McDuck is still waiting of course, impatient as ever.

He wonders how the man ever managed to track him down, to find him amongst thousands- he was busy, busy, and patience was not a virtue of his.

Did he put in all that effort, just so he could abuse him now?

He desperately wants to say no. Heck no… but he doesn't have much choice, does he?

He releases a loud puff of air, throwing his arms down in pure, resigned frustration, "Ugh, fine! The imbecile" he jerks his thumb at Fenton, who looks highly offended, "can stay, but I make no other promises"

Scrooge sighs. It sounds the slightest bit disappointed. Gyro wonders what the old man expected.

"Good enough for now" He turns away from Gyro, which the chicken takes as a much desired indication that he's finally been dismissed.

Thank goodness. He returns to his work. He can see the ducks out of the corner of his eye. Mr. McDuck is giving the new intern a firm handshake. He mumbles something along the lines of, "Congratulations, lad" to the man, who grins wide and enthusiastic, thanking him in that bumbling, over excited manner of his. His eyes sparkle.

Gyro ignores them. He focuses on the new filament he's constructing for Lil' Bulb, bending and melting the metal, twisting and shaping, carefully taking the tweezers in his hands. By the time he looks up, Scrooge is gone.

All that's left is the intern, who's standing in the middle of the floor, looking completely useless.

"Hey uh, Mr-"

" _Dr._ Gearloose. You will call me Dr. Gearloose for as long as this _internship_ " He snarls that word out, as if it's a personal affront, "is underway. Clear?"

"Yes, sir- uh, I mean, _Dr._ Gearloose"

"Good"

He glances over Fenton again. Once more, he feels that twinge at the sight of him, a faint, tug like sensation. For a moment, he gets the impression, not quite tangible and impossible to word, that it means something. That there's something special about this duck.

He shrugs it off. It's nothing

He's just some loud, clumsy, unassuming idiot, and Gyro decides he will never like him.

"Put on a lab coat, intern. We take necessary safety precautions in this lab. If anything burns through you're flesh, I'd like to not be liable"

Fenton squeaks at that, the sound cracking with fright.

"Yes, si- doctor!"


End file.
